


Angel with A Shotgun

by Namgitrash



Series: Shadowhunters Being Sad n’ Stuff™️ [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Friend Clary Fray, Clary stans plz make ur way to the exist i w i l l be bashing her, Daylighter Simon Lewis, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Simon Lewis, I Blame Tumblr, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, It doesn't help tho, Jace Wayland-centric, Jewish Simon Lewis, Kidnapping, Lots of people give him one, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad Simon Lewis, Simon Lewis Needs a Hug, Simon Lewis-centric, Simon and Jace get together eventually but they have to work through all their bs first, Torture, Vampire Simon Lewis, it alternates between chapters lol, no beta we die like men, simon is trying his best, so's jace, then they become snuggle buddies, they're struggle buddies, title shamelessly stolen from the song Angel with A Shotgun by The Cab, uhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29842407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namgitrash/pseuds/Namgitrash
Summary: “W-what do you want from me?” Simon asked. He didn’t care that his voice shook. They already  thought that he was weak and pathetic before he even said anything.He heard laughter bubble up around him, but he kept his eyes on the woman in front of him. It wasn’t like he had much choice. He watched a smooth smile of sharp white teeth spread across her face as she learned closer and breathed into his ear.“Everything.”orAn excuse for me to hurt Simon, because I like seeing my favorite characters suffer : )
Relationships: Simon Lewis/Jace Wayland
Series: Shadowhunters Being Sad n’ Stuff™️ [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193756
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Angel with A Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> So, uhhhhh this is just a whole mess that got away from me lol, I'm supposed to be writing my English essay smh, but this fic wouldn't leave my brain and here we are. The non/con in this fic is mostly alluded to, it's nothing really explicit but either way make sure you stay safe lovelies and I hope you enjoy!

Simon was walking through the streets of New York, but considering how he almost tripped over a plant most people would probably consider it stumbling. He was just trying to get himself and his glasses that were intent on falling off his face, home in one piece. Anyone looking at him would think he was blackout drunk, but really Simon was just hungry, _starving_ even. 

Ever since Simon became a vampire his relationship with food became…. _complicated_ . At first he was set on just...not eating, too disgusted with himself and what he’d become, and in those first couple weeks–months if you asked the right people–, he had a bad habit of “forgetting” that he was hungry. Which,– now that he’s gotten more used to the fact that he has to drink blood to survive–, was the stupidest excuse he could’ve gone with. Vampires don’t just forget that they’re hungry, it's nearly impossible. They’re senses get sharper, and they can hear the heartbeat of anything that dares to have one in their general vicinity. But of course, Simon being, well _Simon_ he managed to defy the odds.

He was trying to finish a song, nothing he was ever going to perform, not if he wanted to abstain from death. But it just so happens, Simon found that he may or may not be catching feelings for a certain blonde soldier. And Simon did not want to dwell on it, like at _all_ . As soon as the realization hit him, and it did indeed hit him–they were sparring at the time– he knew that he had to find some way to get his feelings out. He knew that Jace didn’t like him back, if not for the obvious reasons (he’s straight), then for the fact that Simon was _Simon_ and that meant he couldn’t hold on to a relationship to save his life. And plus, with the way Simon’s life went, if he tried to let it fester, to just push it down and ignore it, the truth would come out somehow. A drunken confession, the truth pulled from his lips during a demon summoning, or him just forgetting to use his mouth filter and blurt out how he feels. So, no Simon was not going to go down the repression path. 

The plan was to write a couple songs about Jace, and then give himself a stern talking to about why his feelings were ridiculous and how he needed to get a grip. The plan, unsurprisingly failed. He had spent _hours_ (it was a day and a half but time is a myth so it's all the same anyways) writing songs about Jace. Some of them were surface level, pages and pages of how much Simon wanted to kiss his smiling lips, or run his fingers through his hair. And others….well let’s just say that Simon was in a lot deeper than he thought. He had been halfway through _another_ love song about how Jace was too good for this world, and that he deserved everything when he got a text. Simon finally dropped his pen, his brain remembering that: “Hey! Maybe writing for hours without sending him pain signals to let him know about the passage of time is not the best idea.”

  
  
  
  


**To Siderman:**

**Hey Si, you kinda fell off the face of the earth and I was just checking up on you to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid like die**

**To JaceyWacey of Too Many Last Namesandia:**

**Aklsfdklas**

**No I’m not dead >:((((**

**To Siderman:**

**Good. Make sure to feed because I know you haven’t yet**

**To JaceyWacey of Too Many Last Namesandia:**

**Funny you should say such a thing…..**

**But let's say even if I haven't fed yet**

**Who died and named you psychic**

**To Siderman:**

**I did, now go eat before i tell Alec that you’re not honoring my death**

  
  


**To JaceyWacey of Too Many Last Namesandia:**

**> :(((((**

**Okay**

Simon sighed good naturedly, before getting up to go back to his apartment. He usually wrote songs back at his house, the atmosphere made him feel sane and like his music could just flow from his brain to his hands. 

So, now Simon is here, who knows how many blocks away from the O-neg in his mini fridge trying not to cry because everything is a little too loud and too much, and he must be hallucinating because what the fuck was that just now?

In retrospect, Simon should’ve asked Jace to bring him blood. He should’ve known that being a Daylighter and wandering around at night clearly not in his right mind would not spell out good things for Simon Lewis. Still, when he saw another shadow out of the corner of his eye he didn’t think anything of it–that is before he was cornered into an alley and pushed through a portal. 

~

Simon wakes up on cold ground, feeling surprisingly well fed. He remembers enough to know that he’s been kidnapped, and pulls himself up to his knees as he waits for his captors. If it wasn’t clear by now, Simon was tired of being kidnapped, like honestly, ever since he became a Daylighter it's like everyone wanted to take him home to their basement. And it was always for stupid stuff! 

_“Tell us the secrets of Hotel Du Mort Simon!”_

_“Tell us Magnus’ weaknesses Simon!”_

_“Give us some of your blood Simon!”_

_“We hate you because you're a Downworlder Simon!”_

It was, to say the least, _exhausting_ . And it always ended the same, the bad guys would try and get something from him, whether through torture or otherwise, and when he wouldn’t give it to them, they would threaten his life and then he would be saved. He’d have nightmares for a couple weeks and hibernate in his apartment, and then everything would be _fine_. So assuming that everything would continue to be fine, he got comfortable in his cell, not really worried because he was only going to be here a couple of hours before he was rescued anyways. 

~

So turns out, everything is not fine, and Simon is in deep, deep shit, and is kinda regretting everything right now. He found out that Circle members took him, something about him being unnatural and upsetting the balance of things, nothing he hasn’t heard before. They say something about purifying him, and Simon tenses slightly because that usually meant that some Grade A torture from Valentine’s twisted mind was headed his way. He wasn’t going to like it, but he took deep breaths and told himself that it was only a matter of time before Magnus found him. 

So when they go to drag him out of his cell he goes willingly. Body limp like a rag doll because Simon found out the hard way that tensing his muscles against the pain just made it worse. Later, when the torture is over, and his kidnappers are long gone, he wishes that he struggled. He wished that he fought tooth and nail, even if it only delayed the inevitable for a little while. 

~

They take him to an empty room. The only light source from a lightbulb in the middle of the space, and what he thinks is a window, but he isn’t sure because when he tried to see his head striked down. 

“Keep your head bowed, Downworlder,” the man who had hit him said. 

Simon internally sighed. _Great_ , he thought, _they have a god complex_. He’s pushed into a chair and has his wrists cuffed to the legs of it. The cuffs were leather, with iron studs sprinkled around the inside, his flesh burning at every slight movement of his wrists. Simon bites his lip and groans in pain behind gritted teeth, as he struggles to find a way to position himself that will keep him flesh unscathed. 

The Circle members watch him with barely contained glee, as they tell him to hold still. He waits in silence as he listens for a signal about what happens next. He secretly hopes that when he hears heavy boots from behind the door that it’s Jace coming to save him. 

It isn’t. 

~

Contrary to what others might think, Simon isn’t just some bumbling idiot. He knows that when the leader of the people who kidnapped you, is talking to you and telling you their plans for you, you’re supposed to listen. But he just couldn’t. The drone of words fly over his head because he’s too exhausted to try and pay attention. He should’ve though. 

Simon feels sharp manicured nails tug at his head and he squints up at the woman in front of him. She reminds him of Camille. She acts like she owns the world and it's a privilege that she lets people think otherwise. Camille always looked at everything like it was her property, branding her name onto anything with a sharp stare, and Simon was no different. He tried to move away from the woman’s grasp and was rewarded with pain flooding up from his wrists where they had brushed up against the iron. The woman looked at him with contempt and slight amusement. Simon suppressed a shiver, as a smirk slid onto her face. She _liked_ seeing him struggle. 

“W-what do you want from me?” Simon asked. He didn’t care that his voice shook. They already thought that he was weak and pathetic before he even said anything. 

He heard laughter bubble up around him, but he kept his eyes on the woman in front of him. It wasn’t like he had much choice. He watched a smooth smile of sharp white teeth spread across her face as she learned closer and breathed into his ear. 

“ _Everything_.”

~

Simon is there for two days. The woman visits him hourly, looking at him like he’s edible. 

The first time she kisses him Simon jerks back like he’s been hit. The lady looks at him like she expected him to disappoint her. He doesn’t know why it hurts as much as it does. She pulls him back with a sigh, stopping when their lips are centimeters apart and simply smiles. 

“Simon, sweetie….it’s just a little kiss.”

Simon tried to turn his head away, but she just dug her nails deeper into his skin where they were resting on the sides of his face. Any other time he would have been able to use his vampire strength but combined with the torture of past day and sleep deprivation he was weak. 

His throat was hoarse from all the screaming and the skin around his torso still burned from where they whipped him. He could already feel the scars forming from where the iron beaded ends sank into his flesh.

“P-please, I-i’ll tell you anything just….anything but this,” Simon pleaded. In the time in his cell in between the beatings, Simon had plenty of time to come up with lies to spew, if he ever needed to spill secrets. He was desperate for anything but what this woman wanted to do with him. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that if he let this happen, it would begin a slippery slope of violation and guilt, and Simon already hated himself enough as it is. He wouldn’t survive this, not without something breaking inside of him. He just needed to convince his captor that he had something worth giving, something more precious than himself. 

“Oh….your poor thing. I don’t want your secrets– just you honey. All I want is you, Simon. I meant what I said, I will have everything. But for right now, all I want is one measly kiss.”

Simon started shaking his head frantically at her words but she simply tightened her hold on him. 

“C’mon now baby, don’t struggle. I’m gonna to take everything anyways, but don’t you worry about that honey, I just need you to let yourself go for me. Give yourself up, hm? Wouldn’t that be so much easier than me having to break you?”

Simon pleaded with her to change her mind. But of course, she won. One measly kiss turned into two, which turned into three, until Simon couldn’t breathe because she had her tongue so far down his throat. Simon knew logically that he didn’t need to breathe, but every minute he spent in this hell, he felt less and less real. Breathing grounded him, and made him feel just a little bit human because even after all this time he still felt a little bit like a monster. 

Of course, because he’s Simon and when can Simon Lewis ever catch a break, they use his breathing against him. When kissing turns into sex, he fights, hard. It doesn’t make a difference though because the Circle members just smirk at him before wrapping their hands around his neck. He hates it, that moment when his breathing cuts off and his brain tells him that he should be dead, but he already is. It’s like being unmade time and time again, where his breath stops but his brain keeps going and the pain keeps coming and he expects to feel like he’s floating but it feels like crashing into the ground. 

Sometimes they take a necklace with the Star of David, and pull it tight to his skin, any slack or reprieve held tight in the hands of his torturer. That’s the worst part, the smell of burnt flesh flooding his nostrils making him gag, because it just ends up making his loss of air worse. 

In the end, as with all things, Simon fails and gives in. He cries himself to sleep when they leave, his body shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm piled with sobs of guilt. He can’t breathe around his cries, and whenever he closes his eyes he can taste her on his tongue. 

He thought that would be it. He stopped struggling against her. He hated being present during it, but he had no other choice. Whenever they catch him spacing out they bring him back by splashing holy water on his face. _Pain cleanses,_ is always their response to his broken sobs of “Why?”. It wasn’t the best, but the worst part is when they make him come. He knows, he _knows_ that it’s not his fault. But when he’s moaning and begging for them to grant him release it's hard to tell himself that. The guilt and the shame that comes afterwards is the worst, but he deals. He can still make it out of here sane. He knows that some bits of himself have been chipped away, but he’s not broken. At least not yet. 

That is until on the second day of his kidnapping, two men walk into his cell. It’s early, and he’s awoken by their footsteps because he had just barely fallen asleep a couple of hours ago. He chokes back a sob, because his entire being hurts, and he doesn’t want to deal with more torture than what he already went through yesterday. And on top of that he’s hungry. They don’t starve him, but he only gets fed after she rapes him, which is even worse. and she hasn’t come into his cell yet. 

Simon sits up on his bed as the two men inch closer. They’re whispering to each other while sneaking glances at him, but Simon has too much of a headache to try and eavesdrop on their conversation. He waits patiently and lets his body go limp as he tries to mentally prepare himself for the onslaught of pain that awaits him. He doesn’t realize that he’s fallen asleep until he’s jolted awake by the brush of hands against his face.

“W-what…?” Simon says blearily. For a second he thinks that he’s back home, the touches on his face soft and comforting. It doesn’t take long for Simon to remember where he is. He jolts up and tries to scramble away from the touches and lets out a squeak when he backs up into a chest. He squirms as the man behind him pins Simon’s arms to his sides. 

The man in front of him reaches out to Simon and drags his hands up Simon’s chest, the calluses on his fingers catching on the soft scar tissue. Simon looked on in mute horror before trying to wiggle out of the space the two men trapped him in. 

“N-no! Get away from me!” 

For a second the man stops touching him, and Simon thinks that for once he got lucky. Maybe they had a modicum of human decency, and that they drew their moral line at kidnapping people. 

Simon breathes a sigh of relief, before his breath leaves him in a rush again. The man in front of him had moved back to begin taking off his clothes. Simon felt a wave of dread wash over him like a cold shower. It was happening again. He couldn’t fight them off, he was weak from not having eaten yet, and tired from lack of sleep and the dull presence of pain that followed him everywhere these past few hours. 

He felt himself check-out, not caring if they brought him back to reality with new heights of pain. She said that she would take everything, but he didn’t think she’d let them do something like this. 

~

Simon thinks that he hates them. They were soft. Sweet pet names flowing from their lips as they held him in place and had their way with him. They were gentle, and Simon barely felt the sting when the man pushed into him. He hates them for it. They don’t make him come, but he almost wishes that they had, because staring at his hard cock when they left him there, trails of praise behind them as they locked the cell door behind him, made Simon want to die. 

He barely feels his hunger, his shame and anger at himself stronger than any blood lust. He can feel himself breaking, can feel the walls building themselves up around his heart. He holds onto that anger, because its the only thing he can be sure of. Simon accepts the fact that he’ll probably stay here for the rest of his undead life. And eventually, _eventually_ the shame will wear off, but the anger….that’s a fire that won’t burn out. So Simon lets it burn away everything else. 

He can’t be upset because he’s _angry_ , how can he feel ashamed of himself when he’s so _angry_? 

When she comes into his cell later on that day, he feels his insides burn when she smirks at him and says, 

“ _Well,_ Simon, it seems that someone got to you before me…..were they good, baby?”

Simon stares at her. He doesn’t care enough anymore to respond. If he thought too hard about what she said then he didn’t know what he’d do with himself. She doesn’t seem to mind his silence though. She prefers the sounds that she pulls out of him anyways. He’s not even tempted to float away this time. He focuses on everything he hates about her, the way she talks to him, the sting of her nails on his skin, the feeling of her breath in his ear as she comes. Just fuel to feed the fire. 

~

When Jace and Izzy break into his cell, Simon is, to say the least, very surprised. He feels relieved because he was just finishing up his meal, and he doesn’t know what he’d do if they had come in just an hour or two earlier. He still has a raging fire inside him, and he wants to direct it at them, because _what took them so long,_ but when he looks into Jace’s eyes he knows he couldn’t be mad at them. Jace and Izzy crowd him into a hug, and even though he feels like his skin is on wrong, and feels himself tense slightly, he doesn’t push them away. 

~

When they arrive at the Institute and Simon is resting in the infirmary, Jace tells him that he’s only been gone two days. Simon stares at him, before leaning back with a nod. 

“Two days...huh...” Simon says with a whisper of awe in his voice. 

Two days was all it took to change everything. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this and feel free to yell at me on tumblr @randomshitsandwhich and leave comments and/or kudos if your heart desires! I plan on making this a two chapter fic (three at the most), but yeah I hope you enjoy and the next chapter will ft. Simon and his recovery from Jace (and probably Simon's tbh) POV so look forward to that! k bye :3


End file.
